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sweetyluvs · 9 months

Note

27 with doctor! abby au please 🙏!!

𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞

abby anderson x fem! reader - drabble

sorry this literally took me a millennium.. i kept getting it wrong and having to rewrite 😭 .

anon left a second note, it read: “same anon who requested 27 with doctor abby! i forgot to add i want angst with fluff at the end if possible. thanks:)”

tags - angsty 🥀, mentions of light loneliness, relationship problems.. fluff at the end!!!

Abby having late night shifts was nothing knew.

She was a surgeon, staying late was apart of her job. but sometimes you wished it wasn’t.

she always came back extremely exhausted, only having the strength to mutter a few ‘thank you’s’ when she eats the food you made her before she goes to sleep. resting all night and getting up at the crack of dawn. You barely see her, and when you do, it’s not for long.

you do miss her, you miss really being around her and having her eyes and attention and love on you, but with her job… it wasn’t that simple. you had your own job, yeah, you were the owner of a small bakery downtown. but you ran that business, you had employees and assistant managers to cover for when you couldn’t make it, and abby didn’t.

you sigh deeply, shutting your eyes upon the refreshing feeling of the cold air flushing out your lungs. Abby was most likely working another late shift at the Hospital. No surprise, you loved her, and her job, but she’d said she would be back by 6:30 to have the promised dinner you were thrilled to make. you’d been going on about it for weeks, asking when she would swear to be free, and she had pinky swore that this wednesday— today— would be perfect.

but, here you sat. alone at the table, your plate empty as the one across from you was full, the once warm food now cold. You weren’t angry, no, you understood. Obviously, she’d come back if she could, obviously she’d stay with you if she could. but she couldn’t. being a doctor was hard, and you understood.

You stood up, taking your plate and utensils with you to the sink. overlooking all the dishes you’d dirtied to try and perfect this dish for her. You rinsed your dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, going to gather the other ones and wash them, putting the plates, bowls, spoons and such in the washer. Your thoughts went back to the day you’d told her. she walked through the door at her usual retuning time, smiling at you when you ran up to her for a hug. You’d asked her the usuals; ‘how was your day?’ ‘anything exciting happen?’ ‘was dina as smart as she usually is?’ ‘were jesse and ellie as weird as usual?’ she’d laughed at your dumb questions, answering them as she took off her shoes and placed down her bag, walking with you to the kitchen. then, you be brought it up.

“abs, i found this super cool, almost gourmet recipe, and i thought i could make it for us to have for dinner on a night that works for you.” you offered, watching as she practically inhaled the spaghetti and meatballs you’d made for dinner. She chewed for a moment, smiling at your words. she swallowed, looking at you. “that sounds great, baby. what is it?”

“can’t tell ya! have to kill ya.” you teased, leaning on the counter and grinning at her eye roll. “okay, whatver.”

“what day works for you? i want you to actually have it free so you don’t miss the freshness of the food.” you inquired, watching as she squinted her eyes in thought. “next wednesday. some construction is going on at the hospital and me and a few others are being let of early.. around 6:30, so that’s perfect.” she replied, twisting her spoon to gather some noodles. you beamed, leaned closer “you pinky swear?.”

“i pinky swear.”

you bit your bottom lip, gnawing at the now raw flesh at the reminiscence of the memory. You always tried to be open, not upset— but you were hurt. You hadn’t actually, really had dinner with her for months.

it wasn’t her fault. you’d told yourself, knowing it wasn’t. You didn’t want to take her work schedule to heart.. but something inside you cracked every time she broke a promise. You huffed angrily, brows furrowing harshly as you aggressively scrubbed the pan you’d used. the dish had took you most of the day, calling ahead to your employees yesterday to let them know you wouldn’t be there, you spent seven hours perfecting this recipe.

even the name of the dish took you time to read. ‘Prosciutto-Wrapped Pork Tenderloin with Crispy Sage, a side of Salade Niçoise (from france) and a side dish of duchess potatoes.’

you knew abby would fall to her knees from joy upon hearing those food titles. she’d love to have it with you, and that’s why you made it. so she’d love it. but she’s not here to have it with you like she said.

before you knew it, the kitchen was clean. stepping to the dinner table, you scooped up her plate of food and nicely wrapped it in plastic wrap. taking a piece of paper from the notepad on the fridge and writing her a small note. You weren’t trying to be rude, in fact, you tried everything in you to he as kind as possible— but after being bailed on four times in the past three months, you were at the edge of a line. you put the paper on the plate, leaving it on the counter for her alongside some water before storming off to your shared bedroom— barely, shared bedroom. you made it, cleaned it, kept it tidy, rearranged it, etcetera.

tearing off your nice shirt, you tossed it to the floor. usually, you’d wear one of abby’s shirts during her night shifts, the lingering smell bringing you comfort— but now, the thought of her made you internally irk.

you took a shirt from your drawer , tossing it over your head and shoulders, sliding it on. You didn’t same with your pants, taking off the nice linen fabric and fuming as you put on crappy old shorts.

You basically threw yourself into bed, putting a pillow between your side, and abbys side of the bed. hoping she’d get the message. i mean, it’s not like she’ll have the time to talk to you about it tomorrow anyways, right?

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

abby sigh as the door to your shared apartment opened, her hand pulling out the key she’d used to unlock it. you don’t usually lock the door.

She knew she’d fucked up.

you’d been so excited for this, chatting about it and reminding her to not be late. and she was late. four hours late.

Abbys dropped her bag by the door as she usually does, sliding off her work shoes and sliding on her slippers before walking to the kitchen.

the lights were out, it was cleaned nicely. her eyes met a plate on the white marble counter, a lazily folded piece of paper on top.

She smiled lightly, knowing you’d be the kind to leave her a note. she reached for it, unfolding it.

“Hope the construction workers weren’t in your way. Enjoy.” abby’s smile fell, guilt flooded her every atom at the words. fuck.

she knew you’d be upset, she doesn’t know what she was expecting— she’d bailed on you four times, and she swore to be on time this one. but, she wasn’t.

Abby was getting ready to head out at 6:25 to be able to make it home early, the biggest grin tugged at her lips as she told all her co-workers about the meal you were preparing.

she was about to leave when an emergency was called in. It was bad, but she’d seen worse. this poor girls bone was completely shattered, a bad case of compartment syndrome. unluckily, her and mel were the only two true professionals still clocked in, leading to a four and a half hour long surgery.

by the time abby got out of the hospital, she basically ran to her car and sped home— praying that by some miracle you were still awake and waiting for her.

you weren’t.

She put the note down, eyes landing on the plate of food you’d left her.

it was beautiful.

the potatoes shaped perfectly, the prosciutto-wrapped tenderloin looked amazing; cooked to perfection, the salad beside it was also stunning.

Each course of the meal was placed individually and carefully on her plate. Abby’s stomach fell with guilt upon imagining you sitting alone, eating your meal without her.

Abby was mad at herself. not because of this single instance, but because she feels as if she’s choosing her career over you— and she would never, ever do such a thing.

Her life revolves around you, so much.. she’d been planning a little something with a ring.

but for some terrifying reason, she felt that you would refuse. why would you marry someone who you’d never be around? nausea ate at her stomach due to the thought, hoping it was only her crazy nighttime, overworked imagination.

Abby unwrapped the food, putting it in the microwave for a minute. You weren’t anywhere in sight, and so she assumed you’d gone to sleep. alone. again.

“fuck..” she murmured, regret running through her veins. She leaned on the counter, her muscular figure easily keeping her upright.

you were the love of her life— her light in the darkness, her jam to her bread, her peanut butter to her jelly— without you, she doesn’t know where she’d be, and thanks to her stupid work schedule, she’s beginning to think that’s starting to happen.

the timer went off, a loud beep ripping her from her thoughts. “oh shit— shh, shh— loud ass microwave.” she complained, taking out the food. The potatoes were now soft, the salad unfortunately warm do to being in the heat, but the rest of the meal was good temperature. Abby got a fork, quickly snagging a bite of the tenderloin. It was even better than you swore it would be. The juice of the meat flooded her mouth like the sea to the shore, accompanied with the small amount of potatoes that gathered on her fork; they were magnificent.

Abby had inhaled the meal, it being gone in a matter of inhuman minutes. She rinsed her dish, going to load it in the dishwasher— but seeing that you had ran it. she frown. you always made sure to never do that, claiming you ‘wanted to get the love she deserves, and love is definitely not having to do your own dish.’

she cleaned her dishes and walked across the house and down the hall to your shared bedroom, pushing the door open she saw you. laying on your side, hair lightly messy as it always was when you slept (she loved it.) and.. a pillow between your side and her side. she wondered what else she’d missed that you’d done.

Abby striped her pants, throwing on some sweats and a hoodie, sliding in bed beside you. She gripped the pillow and threw it so hard she was surprised it didn’t pop, and wrapped her ams around your wait.

you shuffled, grabbing her hand before it could do a full 360 and ripped it off you, harshly turning your back to her.

“babe,” she whispered softly, sadness coating her vocals.

you were reluctant, eyes snapped shut even though she knows your awake.

“I’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i really tried to be here, something unexpected came up, i swear i would have had been here.”

your silence had her itching at her skin.

“please say something.” she pleaded, her frown only deepening.

“whatever you say, abigail.”

abby grabbed the top of her head, ‘fuck’ running in her mind a thousand miles per hour. she really was in deep shit.

“i’m sorry, y/n, i don’t even think sorry can describe how sorry i am— i just, i wanted do come back, i couldn’t though. i couldn’t just leave the hospital, they needed me.” you clenched your jaw. her points were decent, great even— but you were petty.

“i’m sure they did.”

your little-word replies had abby at edge of her seat, suspense and fear building up.

“that’s all? nothing else?” she poked, confusion flooding her, anger starting to appear as well.

“yeah.”

she scoffed, sitting against the headboard. “You don’t have anything else to say? at all? i came back, yeah, i was late and i’m sorry, but—

“late?” you bit back, interrupting her. “you’ve bailed on me four times for dinner. You’ve always put your job before me, you’ve always had more time for your career— is this even working?”

those words were the ones abby feared the most. When you two began dating, she had told you about her passion, and where she worked. you found it fascinating, understanding completely. but, that was also when she used to spend genuine time with you.

“ i love you abby, i really do— but i can’t be with someone who puts a career before a person. I support your passions, and i wish nothing but the best for you, but I don’t want to be stood up by the person i’m dating anymore. fuck, abby, i took work off today to spend seven fucking hours making a meal you couldn’t even text me to say you couldn’t even show up for!” before you knew it, you’d sat up and looked at her, voice raising in a way she’d never heard.

“i know its not your choice, but you could at least find five fucking seconds to reply to my text.”

guild flooded her like a tsunami once again, a frown growing at the look on your face.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered out, watching as you sigh deeply.

“Don’t apologize, abby. it’s past that.” your reply scared her, fearing the worst; a break up. were you going to break up with her? were you going to leave her behind? she didn’t know, and she didn’t want to find out.

“how can i make it up to you?”

“i don’t even know if you can do that anymore.” you turned away, laying on your side, the pillow you’d somehow slipped between you both felt like a rock wall, each side of the bed you slept on cold; missing one another’s warmth.

abby stayed silent, internally scolding herself for being such a bad girlfriend and, frankly, not trying harder to be better.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you woke up with a sore neck, probably from sleeping in a way you never do.

you didn’t need to look over to abby’s side of the bed to know she was gone. sitting up, you crack your once resting bones and stand up. Shuffling on your slippers, you walk to your bedroom door, twisting the cold handle and walking out.

Every morning you wake up after abby, she always kisses you goodbye before she leaves (or so she claims to.), grabs a quick bite to eat from the fridge and you are left to make breakfast for yourself. it was second nature, to wake up and immediately crack and egg or two.

but, something was off. It smelled almost.. good in the house. you ignored it, labeling it as your desperate imagination.

Your feet hobbled across the house, yawning deeply and shutting the bathroom door. looking in the mirror, you grimace. the eye bags on your face were not your strong suite, you noted.

quickly rinsing off your sleep, you brush your teeth along with your hair. each and every yawning that stole itself from your lips reminded you how much you needed your coffee. rubbing your eyes you opened the bathroom door and began your journey to the kitchen.

when you round the familiar corner, what you hadn’t expected was to see Abby in the room.

your eyes flew wide, her blonde hair was still down from sleeping, she had her glasses on and was hovering over the stove.

brows furrowing, you stepped forward. “aren’t you supposed to be at work? isn’t thursday one of the most important ones?” you genuinely ask, catching her off guard attention, her head snapping up.

the big, sweet smile that encased her beautiful lips made you feel bad for your harshness the previous night. She pushed her arms off the counter, fixing something by the stove quickly before walking over to the bar, pulling out the two chairs and revealing two sets of plates.

“Yeah— but it’s not as important as you.” Abby affirmed, a light pink coating her cheeks. You wanted to stay angry, to stay mad at her lies and broken promises. But, your ice heart thawed quickly, revealing the warmth you still posses for her.

“abby.. you didn’t have to. I know i was harsh last night but— it’s your passion, i didn’t.. actually expect you to not go.” you confessed, walking to her cautiously, as if she’d vanish from existence.

she gave you a small smile, “I know. but, i would rather be with you. I love you way more than any hobby.” Her words were the validation you’ve been craving all these months, the words you’ve been seeking to hear. You instantly complied.

“i’m glad to hear that.” you laughed, approaching her and gingerly placing a kiss to her cheek as you sat at your chair she pointed to.

“always.”

she rushed back to the stove, flipping over whatever had been on their previously before motioning for you to give her your plate. you obliged, handing it to her.

“I love you, baby. I always will and.. even though i’m not a baker, i tried to make you those pancakes you like so much.” oh did her words make you fall for her all over again. “you didn’t have to, abs.” you grinned, ear to ear. something abby hadn’t seen you do since.. since a while.

“i did. i hope you like them.” she placed the plate in front of you, beautiful, fluffy pancakes alongside fresh bacon and eggs with syrup drizzled over them placed nicely on the dish.

“wow! abby, you might want to reconsider your career and come work for me.” you joked, smiling wildly at the wholehearted laugh she let out.

“who knows, maybe i will.”

you rolled your eyes, cutting a piece of the pancake and dipping it in the puddled syrup.

your eyes widened, “mhm!” you expressed, eyes shutting in satisfaction.

although abby was a very high ranked doctor, she was still nervous to get her professional baker girlfriends opinion on first time pancakes.

“Abigail, you are a natural.”

“only for you, babe.”

she put food on her own plate, turning off the stove and coming to sit beside you.

“I’m going to call my supervisor and ask for some more free hours from now on. So i can start to have breakfast and dinner with you. and maybe a couple free days, too.” abby announced, causing your heart to beat happily.

“that makes me so unbelievably happy, abby. you deserve it.”

you kissed her cheek, syrup sticking from your lips to her skin. you laughed, and she did too.

“I love you. more than anything.” you said, chewing softly. she wiped some food from your face, a loving smile tracing her features.

“i love you more.”